Jeremy’s complexion had long been as pale as Xuan paper after the excessive consumption of magic power and blood loss.
He leaned his back against the cold marble wall of the combat area, raising his hand to upend the high-grade healing potion he had just taken from his spatial ring, draining it dry without leaving a single drop.
The storage space within this magic ring was practically a miniature treasure trove - everything was top-tier pharmaceuticals, even holy potions capable of regenerating life in the blink of an eye occupied no small number; absolutely not a single cheap potion below high-grade could be found.
Thanks to that explosive and pure medicinal property, in less than half a minute after the cool liquid washed down his throat, the deep, bleeding wounds on his body immediately stopped.
Every muscle fiber torn apart by beast claws and magic decrees was interweaving, automatically healing at a speed visible to the naked eye. If this were replaced by the ordinary, low-tier healing potions typical of students, he would probably have to drag this battered body around for a few days before hoping the scars would close.
Jeremy’s slender fingertips lightly stroked the rose pattern carved on the storage ring, a hint of cold, sarcastic mockery flashing in the depths of his phoenix eyes. He secretly felt fortunate that after personally dealing with that cruel, embezzling butler and the maids who had abused their power, his material resources were no longer skimmed or mistreated.
If not supported by this pile of luxurious pharmaceuticals, someone like him who always had to gamble with his life could absolutely not be standing here so leisurely regulating his breathing right now.
Naturally, Jeremy understood perfectly well where the root of this luxury came from. It was a clumsy and forced compensation from Duke Valmont and his wife after years of coldly abandoning their youngest son.
In his old memories, his heaven-defying genius older brother had gone missing without a trace many years ago right on his way venturing into the forbidden ground to rescue his younger brother. The vast Duke’s estate had no other children; the disappearance of the brightest heir had once caused both his parents to collapse.
Throughout the years the Lord Duke sank into a coma from severe injuries and the Madam lay sickly bedridden, the impending death of his older brother became an invisible sentence they poured onto Jeremy’s head, viewing him as the cause of every tragedy.
When the storm passed, the cracks in their bloodline relationship had long been frozen by time into a cold block of ice. The holy potions piled up in the ring were now merely the parents’ belated attempt at atonement, but to a Jeremy bearing the pragmatic mind of the present, that flimsy bit of family affection had long faded to the point of leaving no trace.
Between them remained only forced interactions according to strict aristocratic standards, and he didn’t shy away from turning that compensation into a survival tool for himself.
Storing the empty glass vial into the ring, Jeremy had just straightened his back, preparing to exercise his muscles to step up and assist his four teammates fighting ahead, when deep within the pitch-black sea of his consciousness, a sudden tremor occurred.
A brilliantly glowing golden card engraved with magic runes floated into existence, clearly projecting every character into his mind.
[Awakening Spirit Covenant Skill -- ①]
Imprisonment in the Mirror: You can summon mirror shadows and mirror fragments.
Mirror shadows can help you confuse opponents, and simultaneously become your combat companions. Every time a mirror shadow is summoned, your own magic power will be depleted by 10%.
The first mirror shadow can replicate 10% of your own actual strength, the second mirror shadow is 10%, the third mirror shadow is 20%. Perhaps you can guess, the actual strength limit of the ninth mirror shadow is ?%.
(Note: The maximum number of mirror shadows is nine, and mirror shadows cannot use Spirit Covenant skills.)
Mirror fragments can reflect an opponent’s attacks. Of course, you can also be a bit more greedy and do the opposite: convert the opponent’s attack into magic power to absorb and devour.
(Note: If the opponent’s realm difference is more than 3 stars compared to your realm, it cannot be reflected and devoured. At the same time, you must adhere to the principle of equivalent exchange, the price to pay is preservation. Each time used, the backlash you yourself must bear will also accumulate. Backlash manifestations include but are not limited to: vomiting blood, headaches, dizziness, shattering internal organs... Backlash limit: Death.)
The tail of Jeremy’s eyebrow twitched slightly, the corner of his lips turning up into an arc of helpless speechlessness.
On this Sylvanor continent, every mage possessing a Spirit Covenant Mark not only held distinct natal abilities, but accompanying the advancement of each realm, they would sequentially awaken corresponding Spirit Covenant skills. The ten major realms from Apprentice to Mage God corresponded to twenty core combat skills. According to normal rules, the limit of skills that could be awakened at each realm tier was two, although exceptions of mutation had been recorded in history.
The superior aspect of these skills was that simply by consuming the corresponding amount of magic power, the user could cast them instantaneously like an instinct tearing through space, completely eliminating the time spent standing rooted to the spot chanting lengthy incantations like when casting ordinary magic.
The method by which a mage awakened a skill was also incredibly arbitrary and random: some merely needed a sip of warm water to automatically unlock it, others woke up from a nap to find the skill appearing in their head, and naturally, there were also those who had to be crushed in high-intensity combat before they could break the barrier.
Jeremy completely did not expect himself to suddenly awaken a Spirit Covenant skill right in the moment he had just chugged a recovery potion like this.
But... he lowered his eyes to look at the glaring red warning line in his consciousness, sneering inwardly. What normal person’s Spirit Covenant skill carried a suicidal nature, forcing the master to bear backlash to the point of tearing internal organs, or even losing their life? Furthermore, what the hell was that mysterious "?%" mark at the actual strength limit of the ninth mirror shadow? Even a master possessing the skill like himself was having parameters hidden by the system, unable to fully grasp the details of his own ability?
It was truly paradoxically cruel.
But Jeremy was never one who liked wasting time fretting over unsolvable variables. Whether it was pragmatic or not, wait a bit, find an opportunity to toss someone onto the battlefield to test it out practically, and it would be clear immediately.
He decisively withdrew his train of thought, lifting his amber phoenix eyes, casting his gaze toward the fiery battlefield of his teammates.
On Lucius’s side, the silver-haired young man, at some unknown point, had thoroughly dealt with his mechanical puppet. Currently, with an incredibly leisurely posture, he was lazily leaning against the edge of the marble arena ring watching the show.
Catching Jeremy’s sweeping gaze, Lucius tilted his head slightly, his narrow emerald green phoenix eyes narrowing, the pink tint at the outer corners bearing a bewitching smile pinned tightly on his captain’s perfectly straight figure, having absolutely no intention of hiding his interest.
In the opposite direction, Phoenix and Leon were also holding an overwhelming advantage against the giant puppets. Phoenix maintained his gloomy, quiet expression, his body curled in his black cloak, but every single scattered control movement was frighteningly precise and ruthless.
Meanwhile, Leon had completely had his combat instinct stimulated by the murderous intent on the battlefield. The muscle mass beneath the gray-haired youth’s shirt tensed tightly; every time he struck, the pair of Crescent Blades sliced through the wind, carrying nothing but fatal killing moves aimed straight at the opponent’s energy core.
As for Evelyn, the girl with light green hair seemed to be deliberately restraining her magic power, utilizing this puppet of equivalent realm as a whetstone to temper her own physical combat skills.
Seeing this, Jeremy set aside his initial intention to help, planning to observe the situation before deciding whether to intervene or not. If things didn’t go smoothly, then helping out a little would be fine.
Carrying that thought, Jeremy leaned against the corner, his gaze never leaving, meticulously analyzing all the combat habits and details of his three teammates.
Take Leon’s Crescent Blades spiritual weapon for instance; this was an uncommon type of weapon, highly flexible, capable of both melee and ranged combat. But clearly, Leon was accustomed to powerful attacks at close range, very rarely fighting at a distance.
Phoenix leaned toward being a traditional mage, excelling at long-range crowd control and summoning.
Evelyn’s spiritual weapon form was the Azure Spirit Longbow, also a long-range weapon, but... she seemed to want to test her hand at melee combat, which she inherently wasn’t proficient in, instead.
Time gradually ticked by.
Suddenly, the phantom’s voice rang out: "Come to think of it, you guys are new students, why did you choose to go to such a remote deserted island to train? It’s not within the academy’s management jurisdiction, isn’t that a bit too risky."
Jeremy’s gaze was drawn to Evelyn on the arena ring, who had abandoned her forte of long-range fighting, switching to melee combat which she was not inherently proficient at.
His eyes followed her but didn’t forget to answer: "Not voluntary, our guiding instructor seems to have no concept of freshmen, what can we do. Of course, it’s also possible he wants those with low Spirit Covenants like us to mature quickly in a high-pressure environment?"
Through the contract, the phantom could see the situation outside. That blue-haired, purple-eyed man, although always smiling, truly didn’t look like someone easily provoked.
"Is your entire team all low-tier Spirit Covenants?" It was a bit curious.
Jeremy lazily replied: "That’s right, five bottom-ranking Spirit Covenants, not missing a single one."
The phantom was slightly appalled.
Bottom-ranking?
But their performance up to now was completely unlike bottom-ranking low-tier Spirit Covenants; considering their age, their star level was not considered low either.
Could it be the result of later effort?
Unfortunately, the realm limit of a Spirit Covenant holder was almost 70% predetermined right from the moment of awakening; later effort only played a 30% role in raising the realm. Like the limit of a low-tier Spirit Covenant... breaking through to the sixth tier in a lifetime was already the limit of limits, not to mention they were the lowest-tier Spirit Covenants.
The phantom also didn’t throw a bucket of cold water; its thoughts drifting far, it blurted out: "Every situation has an exception, I believe you all will not stop before the limit of your Spirit Covenants."
Where was this guy running off to in his own imagination again?
Jeremy lifted his eyelids, vaguely guessing what it was thinking, his emotions not fluctuating, only blandly giving a "mhm."
This phantom, after realizing it wouldn’t be destroyed, turned into a chatterbox, babbling incessantly. But precisely because of this, while he had never proactively investigated, he had grasped its identity when alive, and the specific location of the deserted island from earlier.
Saint Aetherwing Magic Academy was located in the Sky City suspended in mid-air in the core sea region of the Empire; the four great faculty institutes sat right in the city center. Twelve adjacent floating islands were also the academy’s territory; the area was incredibly vast, and the areas in charge were also different.
According to the phantom’s guidance, the island where it died was indeed not a territory managed by the academy. It was simply the most desolate deserted island among countless islands in the sea region beneath the Sky City.
And the phantom itself, when alive, was also a student of the Magic Academy.
But during the final holiday of its second year, out of extreme boredom, it chose to explore the deserted island alone, ultimately leading to the story of death it had recounted in the cave earlier.
There was no conspiracy whatsoever; the cause of death stemmed from "curiosity," which was perhaps also the reason why it didn’t turn into a vengeful spirit but rather a phantom.
Of course, their bizarre synergy largely stemmed precisely from each individual’s arrogant, independent, and selfish nature.